Yeheyy It Is A Holiday Today
Philippines,11: 13 a.m.
it is a holiday today, officially the President celebrates the
National Heroes' Day
with her soldiers offering flowers for Dr. Jose Rizal,
Apolinario Mabini, Juan Luna, etcetera, etcetera
(sounds of trumpets and gun salutes
release the doves that symbolize purity and freedom and peace
to the confused and polluted atmosphere)
i sit and write this poem and the other Bisayan poems for my
bisdak friends remembering the past and how we must be angry
about the present,
let us not talk about the future, we may become revolutionaries
again,
i stop. i stare at the wall. i open the window, Look at the dry fields of rice,
and some sparrows
yes, the sparrow unit, still killing some policemen and raiding
far municipalities and
i remember the moslems, their agongs, and malongs and clean rivers
and silent determinations to be free...
brothers killing brothers? oh too normal, too sane to kill another brother
in this country and the
government soldiers, yes, they too kill, as a matter of fact if you are too
candid,
like me, oh, they may not hesitate too, to kill all of us, but
do not take me by mistake, i belong to the government and i still support it,
even if is too hot yet to be hot
again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Here Comes President Kill Again
Here comes president kill again,
Surrounded by all of his killing men.
Telling us who, why, where and when,
President kill wants killing again.
Hooray, ring out the bells,
King conscience is dead.
Hooray, now back in your cells,
Weve president kill instead.
Here comes president kill again.
Broadcasting from his killing den.
Dressed in pounds and dollars and yen,
President kill wants killing again.
Hooray, hang out the flags,
Queen caring is dead.
Hooray, well stack body bags,
For president kill instead.
Aint democracy wonderful?
Them russians cant win!
Aint democracy wonderful?
Lets us vote someone like that in.
Here comes president kill again,
From pure white house to number 10.
Taking lives with a smoking pen,
President kill wants killing again.
Hooray, everythings great,
Now president kill is dead.
Hooray, Ill bet you cant wait,
To vote for president kill instead...
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Here Comes President Kill Again
Here comes president kill again,
Surrounded by all of his killing men.
Telling us who, why, where and when,
President kill wants killing again.
Hooray, ring out the bells,
King conscience is dead.
Hooray, now back in your cells,
Weve president kill instead.
Here comes president kill again.
Broadcasting from his killing den.
Dressed in pounds and dollars and yen,
President kill wants killing again.
Hooray, hang out the flags,
Queen caring is dead.
Hooray, well stack body bags,
For president kill instead.
Aint democracy wonderful?
Them russians cant win!
Aint democracy wonderful?
Lets us vote someone like that in.
Here comes president kill again,
From pure white house to number 10.
Taking lives with a smoking pen,
President kill wants killing again.
Hooray, everythings great,
Now president kill is dead.
Hooray, Ill bet you cant wait,
To vote for president kill instead...
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Simply Like The Word Roost
and its variations,
refer to the latest poem i wrote on the word
ensconce, it is roost that you use, which signifies
about chickens
but honestly i prefer the pegions
which we had
once in my youth
the boy who chased and hit birds
feeding on our rice
drying under the sun
and i did not know what i did
stoning birds and killing them
not really thinking
that they would be happier
and nicer to see
when they are alive
and flying and feeding
on the pavements where
rice is abundant and
it woudl have been more
memorable if i feed
them myself
with rice on my palms
which i never really did
because in my place
a boy is a boy and he must
hit the birds with stones
from his slingshot
until i have seen real birds
and real people shot
and killed on the fields
like birds but
with real ammunitions
from government armalites
and brothers
killing brothers
which really bothers
me a lot
until now
when finally i get tired of thinking
when i simply write
poems and poems, not judgments
not commands, just feelings
like hot and cold, fever and the coldness
of death
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A simple child of ignorance
Have I known war that dwell in the fields?
Have I known war with all it’s bloodshed?
Have I known war with the guns and cannons?
Have I known war of the Philippines?
Social Studies, what of your use?
Heroes dwell everywhere
Why praise a hero when we all are one
Why is their war different form mine?
Jose Rizal, our national hero
Wrote poems and stories that made us strong
Yet what war is yours different from mine,
When I write poems and stories just fine.
Apolinario Mabini boasts of war conquests in our land
The Katipunan, was he part of that?
They shed their bloods, but what makes them different?
For I too shed my blood in vain
I could accept Lapu-lapu in Mactan
At least he won his rebellion fine
Against the Spaniards, he drove them away
For five hundred years, so the book says
Why praise those heroes who never won
A fight in life where there was torn
Why praise those heroes who shed their blood
And yet held no glory in the mud?
I don’t know of the war in the fields
Never knew the war with those guns and things
Never knew of the blood you shed
The tears, the pain that you have bled
O heroes, forgive me for my ignorance
That I do not thank you for all you’ve done
With all the sacrifices for instance
That you have exchanged for fun
I don’t know of the life you dwell
I don’t know the food you sell
But I do know that I have my life to see
The fruit of your efforts, you’ve waited for eternity
poem by Norina Geniston
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Plain Citizen Juan De La Cruz
he thinks he is part of the government,
correct,
he is part of the people whom the government taxed
taking his money
and later some of his property, his chicken, his pig, his carabao
his plow,
then the government enters into war
plain juan de la cruz becomes the soldier
killing another soldier
in the killing fields in the mine fields he will soon lose his arm
if not both his feet
plain juan de la cruz
then the rebels come, the insurgents, the belligerents
juan de la cruz is not in his house
his wife and children are now the pawns
the victims
the servants
the wife cooks for the comrades the child runs to the nearby store
to buy cigarettes and liquour
then they too will ask for the chicken, the pigs, the carabao,
the rice and some vegetables and beans and
a little money to support their cause
plain juan de la cruz
plain citizen, will he survive the war on both sides?
let us have a sandwich
for a metaphor, this poem looks like it,
plain de la cruz is in between
and he has no choice.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Victory Day
The 8th -9th of May – the Greatest Day,
the Saint Holiday – the Victory Day.
A holiday with glee and spree,
a holiday with tears that appear
remembering those soldiers,
the heroes of the Second World War.
Those hardcore days
we don’t want to face anymore.
That was the largest war
in the history of mankind,
I don’t want you to be blind
but to know and remember the facts:
almost 58 million of men were lost.
Wasn’t it the highest cost?
62 countries out of 73
fought against fascist regime
in one international team.
More than 80% of the Earth population
were involved in military operation,
covering the territories of 40 countries,
bringing only grief, hunger, sufferings and worries.
I looked at the pictures of those young guys,
those heroes of the Second World War
and tried to realize who they were before.
It’s difficult to guess but I would like to suggest:
among them was someone’s son
who had never seen a gun,
someone’s first student or a teacher,
someone’s darling, friend or a preacher.
They had laid down in the fields of fights
struggling for freedom and human rights.
They had given their lives for you and me,
for everyone to be free and live happily,
for the grass to be green,
for the sky to be blue and clean.
Someone in ancient times once said:
“If you want peace be ready for the war.”
These words are not for today.
Yes, we shout “Hurray! ”
But if we want peace
we have to do everything for love to increase
But not use military force
which is only the source of sufferings and the losses
with so many costs.
Yes, we celebrate this day and shout “Hurray”, say “Cheers”
wishing everyone live in lasting peace,
not to know a war decease.
We remember the most impressive celebration
when two nations: American and Russian soldiers
met on the banks of the Elbe and could finally see
the end of that horrible war.
With admiration and joyfully they embraced one another
as if they were old friends or even brothers.
So, today, on the 8th of May I would like to say:
Peoples of our planet Earth!
Remember! We are the part of the whole Universe.
Take care of our Land!
Everyone has to understand:
if you want peace
You have to do everything for love to increase.
Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Kill Somebody
This is a rifle, this is a gun
This is for killing and this is for fun
This is a rifle, this is a gun
This is for killing and this is for fun
This is a rifle, this is a gun
This is for killing and this is for fun
This is a rifle, this is a gun
This is for killing and this is for fun
When the boys cry, in the morning light
And they take their guns and leave their girls and step outside
And they all feel blue, ´cause theyre waiting still
For the enemy on the other side theyre going to kill
You better kill somebody, you better kill somebody
You better kill somebody, you better kill somebody
You better kill
When the bombers come, with the rising sun
And the dreams of glory and blue eyed heros all have gone
On the other side sits the enemy
And Im sure he wont invite for a cup of tea
song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Intergalactic Radio Station
Ive, seen things..
..so many things that you cant believe.
Past designs, future designs,
Cables in the bend.
Second-hand sounds,
Future sounds,
Synthesised dialogues.
Incomprehenseble software.
Hi jon, lets break some rules!
Here comes the sun.
Were doing some recordings later
Same ol factory you know
Heres some names for you,
polyester landscape,
Nylon oxygen,
Ashes to concrete.
Etcetera.....etcetera....
Etcetera.....
Oh, by the way,
Its been a beautiful morning,
What a morning,
Great morning,
Its a great moring man.
song performed by by Vangelis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brothers
Lets get to the point now
Just because weve got the same mum and dad
That dont mean im your keeper
That dont mean I owe anything to you
You dont care for me
And man I dont think that much of you
Cause were brothers brothers brothers
I dont approve of anything you do
Cause were brothers brothers brothers
Cain and abel and me and you
You drove my car when we were young boys
And you tore it up too
You never paid to get it fixed
And you got me beat up a time or two
I know I should forgive and forget
But man I still hold a grudge against you
Cause were brothers brothers brothers
I dont approve of anything you do
Cause were brothers brothers brothers
Cain and abel and me and you
It is as normal as it can be
This sibling rivalry
We should have dropped it at 22
But man I cant stand the things you do
Cause were brothers brothers brothers
Youre always want something from me
Cause were brothers brothers brothers
It was so much fun having you in the family
Cause were brothers brothers brothers
Now that were grown it aint helped nothin? at all
Cause were brothers brothers brothers
On my birthday, please dont bother to call
Cause were brothers brothers brothers
Brothers brothers brothers
Yeah, youre my brother brother brother
Brothers brothers brothers
Yeah, were brothers brothers brothers
Yeah, were brothers brothers brothers
Brothers brothers brothers
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Soldier (not really a poem)
the american revolution was fought witha new breed of soldier.
this country was founded on that soldier.
that soldier is the one that those on the front lines calls the coward
that soldier is the one that those on the front lines call when they need help
because these soldiers dont miss.
these soldiers are trained harder than the most elite frontline man
these soldiers are tought to kill their enemy before there enemy sees them.
these soldiers are the ghosts in the night,
these soldiers are the wind in the day
these soldiers are everywhere.
these soldiers are the bush next to u.
these soldiers are the the tree across the field.
these soldiers are the lump of snow in the flat plain.
these soldiers are snipers.
snipers are the reason we are free.
snipers stop the enemy before the enemy gets close to u,
poem by Joshua Decker
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Bloodlust
I sit at my desk and wonder,
why people do the things they do.
Why do they go on killing one another,
each and everyday?
Some say that it is for religion.
I dismiss that fact.
I cannot see any God
wanting you to kill another because of them.
All the religions that I know of,
urge respect between our fellow man.
Therefore, the reason they do it
must be personal from what I see.
The individuals involved must love suffering,
get a kick out of the pain they cause.
They have a bloodlust
and kill to make themselves look big.
They think that killing gives them power,
it doesn’t,
it only shows them as weak.
They are cowards
because they have to do it in groups.
The one person who stands up to them
has more power than they will ever have.
Oh, they may kill the mortal form,
but the spirit they cannot kill.
It will inherit someone else.
The person with a great spirit
will be welcome at heaven’s door,
while those who want to kill
will be devoured by the devil,
living in his kingdom for evermore.
poem by David Harris
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Forgetting The Consequences Of Our Ignoble Actions....
sometimes we forget
about consequences
we advance with our own
motives
that satisfaction
that fire that seemingly is
consuming every
particle of our being
we become the firewood
the grass
the gasoline that must burn
itself
into nothingness
where is our gene
of Prometheus?
it must be missing for now
we advance as armies hungry
for a kill
and we kill anyone that we meet
after
making a war and
killing all
the enemies
then we kill even friends
as we are hungry
for the killing
for the killing's sake
we have forgotten us
and the incoming consequences of our
ignoble actions
what follows next is
unimaginable
it is a planet of fire
where words
do not exist.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Art Of Killing
he never for once
imagined that he could kill
killing
the simple thought of killing
makes him puke
he tried once
killing a fruit fly
in a snap
reasoning that it infected
its dessert
that whole night
he could not sleep
for he was
worn with guilt
his brother is a moron
the worst in class
makes most of the fame
by killing
many fruit flies
he is the top of his class
but he laughs at him
short of respect
for his fear of killing
'it is a phobia' his brother says
and just like everything else
runs berserk and
becomes an unreasonable
generalization
let me cut this story short
he did not make money
waddled in poverty and
feared the art of killing
helpless n& useless in-himself
his wife
deserted him and his kids
lost that respect
because he will never kill
a fly again
i do not want to make this
story long and
agonizing,
know what?
he killed himself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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How Does A Waiting Passenger Look Like?
some watch tv, some read the news
others have coffee and talk with
the person they are travelling with.
others are just silent and sleepy
and then sleep. They dream.
others stare at the hours. others kill
these hours of waiting for the
3 o'clock flight to boracay.
i am one of them. I kill time and this
is my tool of killing it.
you are reading this. Time is dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Spirits that are always willing
Spirits that are always willing
to clean up for the killing,
of the souls of the young,
with us monsters, among
you.
We can't always see
what we want to be
when we murder
when we kill her.
True.
As the spirits that are,
witness us from afar.
Down below, up above.
Kill the heart. Kill the love.
You.
poem by Kit Strait
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Killing Fountains
I see rockets in the desert sky
I see flesh and blood and I dont know why
Ive seen fathers and Ive seen them die
Ive seen mothers and their daughters cry
Surprised soldiers with holes in their heads
Smiling presidents sweating in their beds
Dreaming of the land where the black gold flows
Where the sun always shines
And the desert wind blows
Its always one step forward and two steps back
They stumble and fall and break their necks
In the land of the killing fountains
Once it was gods land in the middle-ages
Now blue helmets try to stop the rage
While rocket launchers burn the sand
Thats what you call the promised land
Its always one step forward and two steps back
They stumble and fall and break their necks
In the land of the killing fountains
You can kill bodies but you cant kill religion
This is the truth and peace is the fiction
In the land of the killing fountains
And millions die with a silent smile
Seven days a week and the years pass by
In the land of the killing fountains
Where the black gold flows
Where the desert wind blows
song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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War and Peace
'There is in this world that eternal battle'
the General said
'between Good and Evil.
There can be no compromise;
each nation needs living space
and those who follow Evil
will not hesitate
to take yours
and that means,
some of the time,
War.
War is the ultimate expression
of Evil vs. Good
and inevitable.'
Peace spoke:
War is for those who profit from War
and every war ends in Peace
and diplomacy,
Why not skip the destruction and killing
save human lives
and go straight to the Peace?
Nation-State spoke:
Ah, you Peace forget War
is more than the interval between
the Peace
because War decides which people
will be free
and which people will be oppressed.
Peace you misunderstand;
soldiers fight to preserve their country-mens' lifestyles
their families
and those five dollar lattes.
Ah, indeed in War and Peace
someone wins
and someone loses' Nation-State said.
Peace spoke:
Well, Nation-State, that used to be true
but not anymore.
Nuclear holocaust has no winners,
only losers.
A radioactive planet
where no one can live
for a thousand years
is not victory
but massive defeat for everyone.
.
Nothing to celebrate.
You '
Peace said
to the General
'cannot fulfill your main mission
which is to protect the population.
The foe you fight can blow up
all of their nuclear weapons
and the fall out will drift and kill
the rest of us
without even an attack.
You soldiers have to learn new tricks.
You can't really protect us.
All that is gone. You have to retire that side-gun
and sit at the diplomat's table.
'Peace 'Peace said'
has come to depend upon successful social ecology
and restraining those who would have us kill ourselves
in order to preserve our lives.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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I Want to be a Soldier
I will be a soldier
Only when soldiers realize
They are not animals or
cattles
Only if soldiers can ask
'Why should I shoot that
innocent man? '
I would be a soldier
If soldiers can ask the
commander
'Why should we shoot at
the children? '
I would be a soldier
If soldiers know that
The red blood that runs
through their veins
Runs in the rest peopl's too.
I would be a soldier if
Soldiers know they aren't
what they ask them to be
When they know that
The Emperor will never ask
them to kill his children
I would be a soldier
When soldiers realize war
is inhuman
When soldiers know war
always starts war
When they know that
World peace can not be
reached through war
When United Nations can
ask themselves
Is war the only way to end
corruption in the globe?
When soldiers know the
distance between peace and
war.
When soldiers realize how
intoxicative the gun is.
When soldiers realize
that gun does not control
them, but they control it.
I would be a soldier only if
soldiers know
why Martin Luther King jnr.
was killed.
If they know Adolf Hitler
also tried to make peace
through war.
I would be a soldier
If they can tell me why they
are only trained to kill.
I would be a soldier if
soldier can say
NO TO BRUTE LEADERS.
I would be a soldier if
soldiers know
the difference between
death and birth.
I would be a soldier if they
can tell
Why they are weapons of
destruction?
If they can explain why they
killed at Vietnam?
Why they killed at Somalia?
Why Ghadafi was killed
without trial?
Why Abraham Lincoln was
shot
Why Ghandi was killed,
Why they dont care if they
die in war in the name of
peace.
I would be a soldier If soldiers know they have rights If soldiers know they need Freedom. I would be a soldier If the goverments around the world realize How wonderful the world would be If the money invests in atomic weapons can be spent To feed billions of children on the streets of India, Nigeria, Brazil, South Africa The United States and all the streets of the World. I would be a soldier when soldiers can fight for liberty And not for slavery When soldiers know that nobody should think for them When soldiers know they are humans not cattles, When they realize that nobody should tell them what to think and what to feel. If soldiers can be humans, I would be a soldier.
poem by Idris Adesina
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War Memorial
Memorial to be raised in memory of war heroes
Homage and tribute by everybody who goes
Soldier's sacrifice shall never go in vain
Blood might have spilled on earth but shall never go in drain
Nation remains ever grateful
As democracy stands successful
When other countries fail honesty trial
Who can afford to neglect soldiers and their survival?
Not only in service but there after too
Families of war heroes suffer and that is true
Large amount meant for them also make exit
Yet solders never complain but greet
Name any one who can jump in for nation's cause?
Name any individual who can prefer to sacrifice?
What are we offering them to assure their dependants?
Mere paltry sum with pension and insult!
Shame on those who grab the entire fund
Erect illegal sky rocket building on reserve land
Open loot by high officials and no action
People also remain mere spectator with no reaction
Give twenty four gun salutes to departed soldiers
Nation may pay homage and remember
No death is as sacred as laying down for mother land
But make this fact known to our dear friends
What image we have created today?
Have we bartered the national interest away?
Do our conscience allow for purchase of inferior weapons?
Make soldiers to die for no cause and loose the war already won
Make soldiers to strive for national integration
Assure them not to think about deteriorating condition
Nation is committed for their welfare and well being
Let all solders praise their mother land and sing
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Anger -part 2
angry, mad, confused, , abused, furious, hate, hatred, hate me kill me slap me slap u kill you punch me kick beat me shoot me do all this to u ur anger kills me ur anger makes me angry love is lost lost is hopeless i am not hopeless i am lost my hope ive killed it ive driven it away its not gone its here sumwhere it is in my surroundings sumwhere lost this anger it drves me crazy it makes me wanna become unhopeless but still i am lost confused in all this nonsense i smell the incense of candles burnin there far in the great darkness the darkside fear and resentment i felt these all thru the last year ise a fool foolishness ive been it killed me ive hated this fool i was i was angered i try i try hard ill slap it stop it stop me from killing my anger i need it but i dont im happy inside im a good guy or am i wasnt no this year has killed me it was a slow year i go go in my own way to anther way with this anger kept in check kept in the very being of my soul stay sudside go from the darkside avoid at all costs even yes it kills even if at all costs it kills me yes lose this furiousness stop the abuse its all in my head but sometime physical and confusion make one curious but must stop it end it must kill the anger so one day i can b happy and sane and never be lost or confused again.
poem by Dorian Suchelle
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